25 years ago today, on 22 January, 1990, the Jewish Cultural Center was founded. One month earlier, on 13 December, 1989, the press agency ADN published an appeal in numerous East German newspapers. It announced a new coalition of Jews living in East Germany who were committed to spreading the knowledge of Jewish culture and history. The appeal was not an accident:

As early as 1986, secular Jews had found themselves gathering, at the invitation of the Jewish Congregation of (East) Berlin, to explore their Jewish roots – a heritage that no longer played any role in their parents’ identities. A group called “We for us – Jews for Jews” formed out of this second generation of political emigrants who had returned to Germany and grown up in the East. During their regular meetings, they got to know a vibrant Jewish culture, celebrated holidays, and held discussions and arguments – even about politics. Committees emerged, theater productions and lecture series were organized, and eventually the group – though regarded at times suspiciously by the Jewish Congregation – came to be firmly established as part of the community even as it was open to the broader public. The political upheavals in 1989 finally made it possible to implement the idea of an independent Jewish Cultural Center. The appeal prompted hundreds of responses from all over East Germany, including many non-Jews who were interested in becoming members or providing assistance. Since Jewish heritage was subsequently made a prerequisite of membership, these interested parties were named “Friends” of the Center.

While only 66 people participated in the founding assembly on 22 January, 1990, the first plenary session on 31 March saw an increase to 280, more than 200 of whom were already members. The board – initially called the Speakers Council – assumed leadership and in 1991 the Center applied to the official Register of Associations, receiving non-profit status a year later. In compliance with its charter, the Center spent the following years developing a wide variety of activities that served to impart greater understanding of Jewish culture and history: it supported research projects, offered older members attention and care, and taught the principles of religious life. This final endeavor generated controversy time and time again. Dr. Irene Runge, the founding member of the board, fought passionately on behalf of the Center’s religious function. She believed: “… It is not acceptable to run a Jewish Cultural Center from the perspective of non-Jews – to talk about Judaism instead of living it. If we, as Jews, want a Jewish Cultural Center, we can’t set out by turning our backs on the sources of Judaism. Rather, the Center must find its own way to commit to this tradition as a way of life.” From 1991 to 2006, it published a newsletter comprising, in its last incarnation, 8 pages and entitled the “Jewish Correspondence.” Once begun, the bulletin not only dealt with organizational questions but also explained basic elements of Jewish tradition. Some readers were surprised by the large number of religious topics, but the authors believed that an “engagement with the faith itself” was “part of historical self-awareness.” The editors saw the newsletter invariably as a means of asserting Jewish interests and frequently incorporated contentious articles on current affairs.

The Center’s greatest challenge could not have been foreseen at the time of its founding. It concerned the integration of a wave of Russian immigrants, who began arriving in Germany in the 1990s. A proposal at a round table in February 1990 to accommodate Soviet Jews in East Germany set the tone and, to a considerable degree, defined the life of the association until its dissolution. This included practical counseling, such as job creation schemes with designated positions for immigrants as well as lectures in Russian, and offered these newcomers the much-vaunted “home away from home” that they often didn’t find in Jewish Congregations.

On 16 December, 2009, the members meeting decided to dissolve the Jewish Cultural Center. The reasons included the aging membership and lack of youth involvement, but also the fact that neither Berlin’s government nor established Jewish institutions had ever given the Center support. For 20 years, the Center defined a Jewish city history and contemporary chronicle for Berlin in its own particular way: representing the left-wing position in internal Jewish dialogues, the campaign against racism, and cooperation between different cultures and religions. Thanks to the former head of the board, Dr. Irene Runge, the archive of the Jewish Cultural Center is now located at the Jewish Museum Berlin and available for research and study.

Ulrike Neuwirth, archive

Dr. Irene Runge talks about problems bringing kosher food to the Federal German Republic in the beginning of the Jewish Cultural Center.

]]>http://www.jmberlin.de/blog-en/2015/01/the-jewish-cultural-center/feed/0“I didn’t want to ‘get lost:’ ” A conversation with Rabbi David Goldberghttp://www.jmberlin.de/blog-en/2015/01/i-didnt-want-to-get-lost/
http://www.jmberlin.de/blog-en/2015/01/i-didnt-want-to-get-lost/#commentsWed, 07 Jan 2015 11:00:44 +0000http://www.jmberlin.de/blog-en/?p=3024In the summer of 2012, there was an intense discussion in Germany about whether the circumcision of boys constitutes bodily harm under the law. Preceding this so-called ‘circumcision debate’ was a decision by Cologne’s district court that criminalized the ritual circumcision of boys. A high point in the debate occurred when a German doctor registered a legal complaint against Rabbi David Goldberg, of Hof, claiming that he was liable for “dangerous personal injury” due to the circumcisions he performed. I spoke with him about the complaint, and about his feelings as well as the reactions that he encountered during that period.

That’s easy to explain: I’m known in Germany as a circumciser and I’m easy to find through my website. Opponents of circumcision were looking for a sacrificial victim and they found it in me. Because the people who made the complaints against me…

… there were more than one?

Yes, there were a number of them. But the people behind them didn’t even know me. They were simply looking for a scapegoat.

How was it for you during that period?

I wasn’t afraid, but it was unpleasant for me. Most of all because of the stress: I received queries from journalists all over the world, from the USA and Israel. My telephone rang off the hook. I continued to do circumcisions the same as always. But then I also had to ease the worries of people who brought their sons to me, since many of them had been unsettled by the reports and a few even wanted to distance themselves from the circumcision. That uncertainty surrounding the practice is still perceptible today.

There were countless articles and stories about you at that time. What kind of reactions did you experience?

I received a lot of support from the Jewish side, of course, and interestingly from the Christian side as well. I got many nice, encouraging emails from clergymen and others. One even offered me financial assistance in case I was taken to court, but fortunately that wasn’t necessary because the Central Council of Jews in Germany took care of the legal aspects of the situation and ultimately the district attorney declined to press charges.

But I can imagine – in addition to the encouraging emails – that you received some of a very different nature…

Naturally! I got particularly bad emails from German atheists, if I may call them that. One wrote something to the effect of if I didn’t like the way it is in Germany, I should ‘get lost.’.

“Getting lost” – leaving Germany: The German title of our current exhibition (“Haut ab!”) refers to exactly that kind of reaction. Was there any point during the debate when you actually considered leaving the country?

No, I never thought about it.

You are originally Israeli. How long have you lived in Germany and why did you move here?

After the Wall came down, there was a wave of Jewish emigration out of the former Eastern block towards Germany. But there wasn’t any structure here for these new congregations: there were many places with no religious personnel, no rabbi, cantor, Kosher butcher, or mohel (circumciser). As a result, there were appeals at that time in Israel to people who could perform these tasks to come here – people like me. To be honest, I didn’t want to move to Germany! But I was persuaded to try it out for half a year. After six months I saw how important it was what I was doing here, so I stayed – at first, just for another year, and then another, and now I’ve lived here for 21 years. In the beginning I was in East Berlin, then in Straubing, and finally since 1997 in Hof, where there was previously no rabbi at all.

Do you still feel repercussions today from the legal complaints against you?

Sometimes older people speak to me about them or guests at a circumcision ceremony. But actually everything is fine now since the Bundestag’s decision clarified the legality of what I do: I am able to circumcise babies up to six months of age. For older babies or children, there needs to be a doctor present.

For a mohel in Israel, who’s performing two or three circumcisions a day, not really. But here, it is, particularly when you compare it with what German doctors do. In Germany, around ten percent of men are circumcised and most of those are because of medical problems that occurred after infancy. So doctors here don’t have much experience – especially in circumcising babies.

How do you see the 2012 debate, now in hindsight?

It seems to me that it was strongly driven by anti-Semitism. Unfortunately, there are still many anti-Semites here, so I think it’s a debate that could easily re-occur – only next time, hanging on another peg.

Did the discussion change anything for you?

I still perform circumcisions all over Germany and even all over Europe. So it didn’t change anything at all for me.

The interview was conducted by Alice Lanzke, media

]]>http://www.jmberlin.de/blog-en/2015/01/i-didnt-want-to-get-lost/feed/0Jewish Life in Germany Today: Where Are the Young People? An Interview with Karen Körber.http://www.jmberlin.de/blog-en/2014/12/jewish-life-in-germany-today-where-are-the-youngsters-an-interview-with-karen-korber/
http://www.jmberlin.de/blog-en/2014/12/jewish-life-in-germany-today-where-are-the-youngsters-an-interview-with-karen-korber/#commentsWed, 10 Dec 2014 23:10:27 +0000http://www.jmberlin.de/blog-en/?p=2912

The Jewish community in Germany has undergone a profound change in recent years—and the protagonists behind that change are the primary focus of research undertaken by Dr. Karen Körber, the first scholar of the Fellowship Program of the Jewish Museum Berlin. For the last two years Dr. Körber has been investigating “Daily Realities: Jewish Life in Germany Today” and she recently spoke to me about her findings.

Karen, the Fellowship Program of the JMB supports research into Jewish history and culture as well as into broader-ranging aspects of migration and diversity in Germany. You are the first person ever to complete the two-year Fellowship Program—a pioneer, so to speak—and I’d be interested to hear about that experience.

I found myself in a very open situation and was able to do much as I liked. All fellowship programs are fundamentally privileged set-ups but this particular one has the advantage of being attached to a well-endowed institution of international renown.

How did you come to research the topic “Daily Realities: Jewish Life in Germany Today”?

I had touched upon the topic already in earlier projects and was actually in the throes of research into migration from Eastern Europe for my doctoral thesis when the Museum offered me a Fellowship. So it was perfect timing: I was able to bundle all my research interests and develop a specific new project based on them.

If the theme is Jewish life in Germany today, why did choose to focus on migrants from the former Eastern bloc?

Because they are the majority, numerically, and because their influence on the life of Germany’s Jewish community overall is decisive today—and will continue to be so.

Since the collapse of the East bloc in 1989/90, Jews from the former Soviet Union (USSR) have been able to migrate to Germany. Before that, Jewish communities here were mostly very small and graying dramatically: some 30,000 members in former West Germany and no more than 300 or 400 registered members in former East Germany. Of course these numbers increased enormously—and very rapidly—on account of the new arrivals. The Jewish Council of Germany estimates that there are now over 100,000 Jews actively involved in their communities and another 100,000 who are not. The trend to religious pluralism has accordingly become more marked and the number of Jewish educational institutions has increased.

And how is the situation today?

The Jewish communities here—and other similiar religious communities—are now faced with a dilemma: young people are not getting involved and the current members are growing old. These are the factors that prompted my research. If the younger generation represents the actual and future promise that is currently lacking in such institutions, it becomes a matter of urgency to ask: Where are the young people today, and what are they up to?

How did you go about finding answers to these questions?

One component of my research program was an online survey carried out in late 2013 among a specific target group, namely individuals aged between 20 and 40 who had migrated to Germany with their parents. We asked them what it means to them to be Jewish, what they do, and how they live, etc. In addition, we carried out 30 in-depth interviews face to face.

What were the findings?

It is a fact that 35 percent of participants in the survey are no longer part of a community while the other 65 percent are made up of Liberal, Orthodox, Lauder and Chabad members. These findings confirmed the trend of pluralism and the growing lack of interest in established institutions. Regardless of whether or not they are part of a community, the majority of these young migrants see themselves as secular-liberal. Their self-image is shaped by their ethnic and cultural background but hardly at all by religion. They differ enormously in this respect from their parent’s generation. Their interest in Judaism is growing but it is typically a secular-liberal interest. Their sense of tradition and adherence to religious practice is accordingly weak and highly individual. The findings in this respect are very similar to those of the US-American PEW Study of 2013.

That’s right. I will make a brief presentation. The conference aims to bundle together the major strands of contemporary discourse and so my topic fits in well—for describing processes of individuation and diversification is an integral part of that discourse.

These processes are not found only within the Jewish community…

That’s right. They are a widespread phenomenon. But they bring up issues specific to the Jewish community and a pivotal aspect of the conference will therefore be the crucial question: How do people relate to this religion? The wave of immigration from the former USSR has turned the spotlight on the complex issues raised by this question both in Germany and in Israel. And ultimately, the question also has a political dimension. We have to consider how Jewish contemporary life may develop in a Europe wracked by on-going conflict: conflict within the community as well as conflict with other social groups. All these issues will be addressed at the conference.

Exactly. In publishing a compilation of papers by scholars of cultural studies and the social sciences on Germany’s Russian-speaking Jewish immigrant population, the journal will present interdisciplinary perspectives on how phenomena such as mobility, migration, the growing trend to pluralism in cultural practice, and the plural identities to which these give rise are shaping contemporary Jewish life in Germany.

Interview by Alice Lanzke, Media

]]>http://www.jmberlin.de/blog-en/2014/12/jewish-life-in-germany-today-where-are-the-youngsters-an-interview-with-karen-korber/feed/0Pickelhauben, honor crosses and / or Germania? On the differences and similarities between two exhibitions about the First World War currently on show in Berlinhttp://www.jmberlin.de/blog-en/2014/10/pickelhauben-honor-crosses-and-or-germania-on-the-differences-and-similarities-between-two-exhibitions-about-the-first-world-war-currently-on-show-in-berlin/
http://www.jmberlin.de/blog-en/2014/10/pickelhauben-honor-crosses-and-or-germania-on-the-differences-and-similarities-between-two-exhibitions-about-the-first-world-war-currently-on-show-in-berlin/#commentsThu, 30 Oct 2014 23:00:31 +0000http://www.jmberlin.de/blog-en/?p=2479“Our inclination to hopefulness and expectations of a final victory are unabated and yet the long wait does at times begin to worry us.”

The cultural and literary historian Ludwig Geiger, son of the famous reformist rabbi Abraham Geiger, penned these lines to a friend on 5 December 1914. The “long wait” which had started to trouble him four months after the Great War broke out, ultimately dragged on for almost four more years and yet failed to bring the victory so yearned for. Soldiers at the time could barely imagine what massive destruction this first modern war would wreak. The paltry equipment with which they set off for the front is proof enough of that.

On display both in the exhibition “The First World War in Jewish Memory” at the Jewish Museum Berlin and in the special exhibition “1914–1918. The First World War” at the German Historical Museum (DHM) are Pickelhauben, spiked helmets made of hardened (boiled) leather and with a cloth covering for camouflage—for a metal spike protruding above a trench and catching the sunlight made its wearer a sitting target. On my guided tours of the two exhibitions, I take the Pickelhaube as an opportunity to talk about how much this war differed from previous ones as well as how ill-prepared the military was, initially, for the new weaponry deployed.

Each exhibition pursues a different angle. The cabinet exhibition draws exclusively on the Jewish Museum’s own collections to present an arresting display of artifacts and documents that were of great sentimental value to Jewish families even after the war was over. The exhibition at the DHM, on the other hand, provides an overview of the events, with selected battle sites and scenes from the home front presented by way of example; hence two entirely different concepts—yet with an astonishing number of parallels.

Much about the First World War can be read, heard and seen in this centenary year of remembrance. Therefore, many visitors, including older schoolchildren, are remarkably well informed about the history of the First World War (although more boys than girls in the latter case). So, I must ask myself, repeatedly, how I may best rouse and rivet their interest. In business, everything revolves around the USP, the unique selling point. Museums’ USP is that their exhibits turn abstract history into a concrete reality. I accordingly encourage the visitors on my tours to take a very close look at exhibits and I am always delighted when they discover surprising or unexpected features. For the strength of the exhibits in these two exhibitions lies precisely in the stories they tell! Among the eloquent items on display in the Jewish Museum number two Yads (Torah pointers) and field prayer books as well as the honor crosses awarded to war veterans in 1934, which certain Jewish veterans already in exile were presented with at German consulates abroad.

The German Historical Museum presents an armband worn by the field rabbi Aron Tänzer as well as the medals awarded the Jewish fighter pilot Paul Hagen. On my tours there I like to point out well-known exhibits, too, such as Friedrich August von Kaulbach’s painting “Germania,” a determined and fierce female figure, ready to fight but in a defensive posture—the artist’s representation of Germany in August 1914.

How would we paint “Germania” today? How has Germany changed over the last one hundred years? Pondering such questions has amusing, interesting and thought-provoking results…
Ludwig Geiger died shortly after the end of the First World War, in early 1919, aged 70. He was unable to reconcile himself with the revolution that cost “Germania” her crown.

Friedrun Portele-Anyangbe, Guide

]]>http://www.jmberlin.de/blog-en/2014/10/pickelhauben-honor-crosses-and-or-germania-on-the-differences-and-similarities-between-two-exhibitions-about-the-first-world-war-currently-on-show-in-berlin/feed/0After the exhibition is before the exhibitionhttp://www.jmberlin.de/blog-en/2014/10/after-the-exhibition-is-before-the-exhibition/
http://www.jmberlin.de/blog-en/2014/10/after-the-exhibition-is-before-the-exhibition/#commentsTue, 14 Oct 2014 22:10:08 +0000http://www.jmberlin.de/blog-en/?p=2448

The special exhibition entitled “The whole truth… everything you always wanted to know about Jews” ended more than a year ago. Besides the animated discussions and empty display cases, there are thousands of pink post-it notes left over. Visitors stuck their questions, commentary, and impressions on a concrete wall after they went through the exhibition and left the museum. A kind of analog “facebook” arose out of these contributions, above and beyond the contents of the exhibition itself. Visitors commented on each others’ notes and raised new questions: on the history of Jews in Germany, on the conflict in the Middle East, on the relationship between Christianity and Judaism, and – again and again – on the subject of circumcision. At this point, the Jewish Museum Berlin had already decided to dedicate not just another blog post to the contentious topic (as part of the series “Question of the month”), but an entire new exhibition.

We recall: in May of 2012 a district court in Cologne handed down a controversial ruling, declaring the ritual circumcision of boys by a doctor to be an infliction of bodily harm according to the criminal code. The court’s decision unleashed a broad public debate: what is religious freedom? Who determines what a child’s wellbeing is? How much disagreement can a secular society tolerate? Who is the “we” and who is the “you”?

In our new special exhibition “Snip it! Stances on ritual circumcision” we take this as our starting point, examining the question of what this ritual means from the perspective of the three monotheistic religions. To do this we are using the classic resources of a cultural-historical exhibition: painting, sculpture, and photographs, together with everyday objects and those associated with this ritual, as well as a whole series of film clips.

In preparation, we also took another look at the post-it notes with questions about circumcision. Starting from 23. October 2014, you can visit the exhibition rooms and learn why circumcision has played such a central role in Jewish tradition. The question of why Prince Charles is circumcised remains, however, unanswered.

Martina Lüdicke, Special Exhibitions

]]>http://www.jmberlin.de/blog-en/2014/10/after-the-exhibition-is-before-the-exhibition/feed/0Peddlers with Caftans, Sidelocks – and Umbrellas: Images of Jews around 1900http://www.jmberlin.de/blog-en/2014/09/peddlers-with-caftans-sidelocks-and-umbrellas-images-of-jews-around-1900/
http://www.jmberlin.de/blog-en/2014/09/peddlers-with-caftans-sidelocks-and-umbrellas-images-of-jews-around-1900/#commentsTue, 02 Sep 2014 07:00:26 +0000http://www.jmberlin.de/blog-en/?p=1691In Germany, you cannot rely on the weather being consistently sunny, even in the summertime. In the fall at the latest – dare we think of it already? – we will need to shake open our umbrellas again. Axel Stähler (comparative literature, University of Kent), has shown that the umbrella was once considered a Jewish attribute. He recently offered to share with Blogerim his research on the umbrella’s discursive significance in Wilhelminian Germany.

I was first struck by an umbrella in the hands of the “Big Chief of Uganda,” Mbwapwa Jumbo, a fictitious reporter in the Jewish satirical magazine Schlemiel, who acted as a correspondent from a new Jewish colony in Africa. In fact, in 1903, the British government had proposed to Theodor Herzl to commit land to Jewish settlers in the British Protectorate of East Africa. This proposal, which came to be known as the Uganda Plan, was vehemently disputed in the Zionist movement, and rejected in 1905. No concerted colonial Jewish settlement of Uganda ever took place, although individual Jewish immigrants had built homes there earlier.

In nine letters published over the course of the magazine’s brief lifespan, from 1903 to 1907, the chatty and naïvely amicable Mbwapwa tells of the first Jewish colonists – Orthodox Mizrachi – and of what became of them: in funny prose spotted with Anglicisms, and increasingly also Yiddishisms, he describes how he and his countrymen converted to Judaism. He relates the murder of a reformist rabbi who had been smuggled into the country, and the reformers’ ensuing punitive military expedition. He reports on the colony’s political and cultural trials and tribulations, and, finally, on the emergence of the Zionist movement—since Uganda was not, after all, the Promised Land.

Each of the nine letters is accompanied by a supposedly authentic photograph of the Big Chief, showing him in three-quarter profile: wearing a caftan and a yarmulke, he sits there, looking for all the world like an Orthodox Jew with sidelocks – and an umbrella.

So here, in the hands of this new-fangled ‘Black’ Jew, I first encountered the umbrella.

“Dearly Bought,” in: Punch, 21 March 1874, p. 121

What is the significance of the umbrella in Jewish cultural history? And which of its associations did cartoonists and anti-Semites draw on?

The umbrella triggers various associations, ranging from dictatorial rule to symbols of democratic progress. The umbrella is associated with dominance because of the way it was used symbolically in Africa and Asia. The Ashanti King Coffee Calcallee’s umbrella, for instance, was appropriated as a spoil of war by the British in 1874. It was therefore a symbol of the subjugation of indigenous peoples. But as a modern, technical device used by urban dwellers in imperial cities of the nineteenth century, it was also a symbol of progress. All this made the umbrella relevant to Mbwapwa, simultaneously constructing and critiquing colonial discourse.

A further, far less illustrious interpretation of the umbrella can be extrapolated from other attributes of the black African’s new Jewish identity, namely his caftan, yarmulke, and sidelocks. Countless anti-Semitic postcards from the Wilhelminian period in Germany cast Jewish peddlers in the physiognomy of a stereotypical “Eastern Jew,” with a caftan, a battered top hat, and a tattered umbrella to boot. Its implications are even more complex.

Historically, the umbrella was a useful accessory for peddlers exposed to all types of weather. From a psychoanalytical perspective, the iconography of the ragged and bent umbrella can be a covert reference to Jewish circumcision—a “mutilation” which was known to provoke castration anxiety among non-Jews. Finally, the umbrella and its tent-like structure can be a symbolic reference to the mobile dwellings of nomads, and therefore a symbol of the “Wandering Jew” in restless and unsteady exile.

What, then, does the umbrella stand for in Mbwapwa’s hands?

The umbrella situates the ‘black’ African Jew in a highly problematic colonial discourse. In this discourse, the umbrella’s ambivalence makes the person carrying it likewise appear ambivalent, as a victim of colonial aggression, and as a colonial aggressor. But it is important not to lose sight of the broader context in which Schlemiel and the letters from Uganda appeared. The nine letters were published during Germany’s bloody colonial wars against the Herero, Nama, and Maji Maji. Their critique of the fictitious Jewish colonization of East Africa may therefore be read as an admonition in relation to the Zionist project to settle in Palestine. In combination with his other Jewish attributes, Mbwapwa’s umbrella simultaneously suggests his transformation into a ‘black’ (i.e. Orthodox) Eastern Jew. His character may be read, in this respect, as a positive alternative to the so-called “man of air”(“Luftmensch”), which was the pejorative term for Jewish migrants in discourses of Zionism and anti-Semitism around 1900. In any case, the image is striking, given the intact condition and elegant form of his umbrella…

Thank you, Dr. Stähler.

For more on Mbwapwa Jumbo, see Axel Stähler, “Constructions of Jewish Identity and the Spectre of Colonialism: Of White Skin and Black Masks in Early Zionist Discourse,” in: German Life and Letters 66.3 (2013): 254–276; and, for more on the umbrella in particular, “Zionism, Colonialism, and the German Empire: Herzl’s Gloves and Mbwapwa’s Umbrella,” in Ulrike Brunotte, Anna-Dorothea Ludewig and Axel Stähler (eds.) Orientalism, Gender, and the Jews. Literary and Artistic Transformations of European National Discourses, Berlin und Boston: de Gruyter; forthcoming 2014.

150 years ago today – on the last day of August, 1864 – Ferdinand Lassalle died as a result of injuries sustained in a duel. The German politician and journalist was a founder of the first workers’ organization in the country, the General German Workers’ Association, which had come into being the year before his death and is today still considered “the birthplace of social democracy”. Ferdinand Lassalle’s duel pistols were on display at the exhibition “150 Years of Social Democracy”, presented a year ago by the Moscow State Archive.

Both a politician and a charismatic agitator for the organization of workers, Lassalle was only 39 years old when he challenged Wilhelm von Dönniges to a duel because the latter had refused to grant Lassalle his daughter’s hand in marriage.

After his abrupt demise, a veritable cult of personality developed around his memory: there were poems, songs, even rituals carried out during the widespread commemoration ceremonies, as well as various pieces of memorabilia that circulated among his followers. The first book with “An Exposé of the Tragic Death of Lassalle” appeared in 1868, by one of his close political comrades.

In the Jewish Museum Berlin’s permanent exhibition, Lassalle’s significance for the German workers’ movement is placed next to that of Karl Marx. The busts of the two, together with a music box, attract many of our visitors. During a guided tour celebrating the museum’s tenth anniversary, contemporary German politician Gregor Gysi introduced these busts as among his favorite pieces and later described the historical significance of Karl Marx and Ferdinand Lassalle in an interview.

Busts like those of Karl Marx and Ferdinand Lassalle were supposedly installed in union halls and assembly rooms. The copies in the Jewish Museum are made of industrial and molded glass respectively – and not revolutionary red, the color of the workers’ movement since the middle of the 19th century, but rather a delicate rose hue. This has to do with the manufacturing process: molded glass could be produced in lighter colors for a more reasonable price. The material suggests that the busts were made in large batches and widely distributed. We don’t know, in any case, whether there are more copies of the two busts, who the manufacturers were, or where they were produced.

The front side of the base of the Lassalle bust is decorated with the crest of the General German Workers’ Association that he founded – a hammer and two shaking hands symbolizing fraternization. Inside the base is a music box that places the “Marseillaise”.

Immediately following Lassalle’s death, Jacob Audorf worked up the popular and widespread “Workers’ Marseillaise” with five verses, the last line of which names Lassalle as a trailblazer: “Now we’ll follow the intrepid path that Lassalle led us to!” Sung for years by the Social Democrats at the closing of their conventions, among other occasions, the song was finally replaced by “The Internationale” during the Weimar Republic.

Tomorrow at the Academy of the Jewish Museum Berlin, Urmila Goel and Nisa Punnamparambil-Wolf will introduce the book they edited, InderKinder – Über das Aufwachsen und Leben in Deutschland (Indian-Children: on Growing Up and Living in Germany, published by Drapaudi Verlag). It’s the third in a series of events on “New German Stories” where, with the aid of individual biographies, we examine Germany’s historical and current status as an immigration society. On this occasion we’ll focus on the children of immigrants from India, who gained public awareness for the first time during the “Green Card” campaign of 2000.

Prior to the reading and discussion tomorrow, we asked the two editors, Nisa Punnamparambil-Wolf and Urmila Goel, three questions:

What made you choose this title?

We’re referring with this title to the marginalizing “Kinder statt Inder” (children instead of Indians) campaign of the year 2000. The wordplay of InderKinder (Indian-children) is meant ironically: it was important to us to find a creative way to deal with these attributions. With the book, we want to show the varied ways that people who grew up and live in Germany handle the classification of being a child of Indian immigrants.

The book consists of two parts, autobiographical stories and essays. How would you explain your concept?

The people who contributed to the book are second generation Indian immigrants. Their stories include autobiographical observations but go beyond the autobiographical too. The essays in the second part are written from an academic perspective, reflecting on what these stories and experiences might say about our society. InderKinder isn’t an academic book, however. It’s a book for anyone interested in stories of migration.

Indians remain a less visible group at large, relative to other immigrants: are there advantages or disadvantages to not being the focus of immigration debates?

The “Kinder statt Inder” campaign and the discussions about so-called “Computer Indians” demonstrated what it means to get more attention. It’s definitely an ambivalent experience. On the one hand, people who have a familial connection to India were finally seen; they got to tell their stories. On the other hand, there was more hostility and more negative emphasis on them. The attention on Indians as a model minority – the most educated and best integrated – is also equivocal, because it can be used to denigrate other immigrant groups. We also discuss this in the book.

Tomorrow evening will be devoted to these and other questions: the reading from InderKinder takes place at 7.30 pm in the hall of the Jewish Museum’s Academy (tickets: 5 euros, reduced rate: 3 euros, for reservations call +49 (0)30 259 93 488 or email reservierung@jmberlin.de).

In the year 2000, the UN named 18 December International Migrants’ Day. Today, thirteen years later, Germany is well-established as a prime target country for migrants. Its population is plural, multi-religious, and multi-ethnic. Migration and integration therefore provide both politicians and academics considerable scope to tread new ground. But what state is migration and integration policy in today? And what role does academia play in shaping it? Which concepts have become obsolete, and which new perspectives are opening?

On 22 November 2013, experts in migration research engaged in intensive and controversial debate of these questions at a conference jointly convened by the Jewish Museum Berlin, in the framework of its new “Migration and Diversity” program, and by the German “Rat für Migration,” a nationwide network of academics specialized in migration and integration issues. In the subsequent open forum with these invited guests, politics and science met head on: politicians and academics discussed, among others, migration policies proposed by Germany’s recently elected coalition government.

From “Social Integration” to the “Post-Migrant Society”?

There was consensus at the conference regarding problems inherent to the term “integration.” The popular, albeit simplistic interpretation is that integration is something only immigrants and their descendants need to pursue. While some wanted to replace “integration” with a new term, such as “inclusion,” others argued in favor of reclaiming the term “Integration,” but broadening its meaning—so as to establish integration as a task and a responsibility for all members of society.
The concept of the “post-migrant society” was also put up for debate. This term expresses the concern that people with a so-called “immigrant background”—many of whom who were born and raised in Germany, although their grandparents or great-grandparents were not—should no longer be regarded as “foreigners.” It advocates a paradigm shift by opening up new categories of diversity beyond ethnicity, culture, and religion. For far too long, researchers in this field have focused on minorities and have failed to ask whether (or not) the majority population is willing to integrate. Diversity today is a household term with positive connotations, yet public opinion remains largely blind to the fact that racism and discrimination are a part of everyday life in Germany. This is why, in the eyes of many researchers, social science has an important role to play: for it is a tool for critical reflection not only on politics and society but also on one’s own work and the nature of knowledge production.

Migration Policy in the Light of the Coalition Talks

In the final panel discussion “Quo Vadis Migration Policy?,” Aygül Özkan, a member of the executive board of the CDU and formerly Minister of Social Affairs, Women, Family, Health, and Integration in Lower Saxony, and Miguel Vicente, State Commissioner for Migration and Integration in Rhineland-Palatinate and an SPD local counsellor, explained their positions on the conference themes; Aleksandra Lewicki, lecturer in political science at the University of Bristol, drew on her experience of British diversity policy to broaden the German viewpoint; and Dietrich Thränhardt, professor emeritus of political science at the University of Münster and with many years’ experience of migration research, took an historical look at the issue. He began by pointing out the long history of economically motivated migration. Moreover, he added, the current stigmatization of those “poverty-driven” Roma presumed likely to move to Germany reveals a dangerous disregard for history, more specifically for the extermination of Sinti and Roma under the National Socialist regime. Miguel Vicente drew attention to media misrepresentation: Young Spaniards, who also live in precarious conditions and put a strain on communities, are regarded more positively than Roma. Özkan emphasized that communities impacted by migration are overwhelmed and should be given support.

Against the backdrop of the Lampedusa disaster, asylum and refugee policies left their mark on the coalition treaty. And yet it was agreed that the measures adopted to integrate refugees into the labor market were insufficient. The primary focus of the open forum was to discuss what a reasonable anti-discrimination and gender equality policy might encompass. Lewicki noted that anti-discrimination work is more highly valued in the UK than in Germany: the size of their budget in comparison to that for Germany’s Anti-Discrimination Unit is telling.
In conclusion, Vicente appealed to academics to continue to advise politicians and to monitor their efforts, because they depend on such critical input.

New Impulses from the Academy of the Jewish Museum Berlin

The “Migration and Diversity” program expands the Jewish Museum Berlin’s scope of activity, both thematically and programmatically. This event series located at the interface of social science, politics, and public opinion has already given rise to poignant and stimulating exchanges. The questions raised regarding a paradigm shift in the field of migration and integration will be further debated and the insights gained deepened, among other occasions, at an international conference in November 2014 on the concept of the “post-migrant society.”

If you wish to learn more about future meetings, workshops, and events, please subscribe here to the newsletter of the Academy’s programs on migration and diversity.

]]>http://www.jmberlin.de/blog-en/2013/12/re-thinking-migration/feed/0New Forms of Protesthttp://www.jmberlin.de/blog-en/2013/05/new-forms-of-protest/
http://www.jmberlin.de/blog-en/2013/05/new-forms-of-protest/#commentsSun, 12 May 2013 12:00:06 +0000http://www.jmberlin.de/blog-en/?p=582Last summer, the Korean musician PSY sang out in protest against consumerism in Gangnam, a posh district in Seoul. His video shows him dancing, as if on a horse, in front of wealthy-looking men and scantily-clad women. For reasons only posterity may help us to understand, Gangnam Style became Youtube’s most frequently watched video clip. A series of parodies were produced by groups as far distant from Gangnam – geographically and ideologically – as NASA and Greenpeace.

Gangnam-style protest reached the art world with particular fervour. Chinese activist Ai Weiwei released a Gangnam Style video in protest of censorship in his country. Reacting to this video, Jewish-Indian artist Anish Kapoor – whose works are on display starting 18 May 2013 at the Martin-Gropius-Bau, Berlin – animated art museums in England and the USA to shoot a video in support of Ai Weiwei. Shortly thereafter, the Philadelphia Art Museum posted a video with its staff members dancing to the Gangnam tune, though their object of contention is not immediately apparent:

As far as museums go, ours has a particularly large number of causes for protest. And being supporters of civil intervention, especially in modern media form, there is much to be said for producing a Jewish Museum Gangnam-style clip, or one in the style of Harlem Shake, which surpassed Gangnam in popularity in February 2013.

Yet PSY’s use of performative contradiction – he resorts to the very images of consumerism he protests against – might backfire quite awkwardly in a screenplay on religious and social tolerance. We could find ourselves in somewhat of a muddle if the irony of a film showing, say, museum staff dancing horse-style up to a group of drunken men, drinking their beverages and wooing their women would prove to be elusive… Or not? What plot would you suggest for a Jewish Museum Gangnam-style video clip?